Hogwarts Reimagined

With the third-years’ exams already over, classes were pretty informal and either student-directed or preparing for next year’s coursework depending on subject, so while Quidditch took the most precedence there was no homework to do and Rhiannon found herself with a surprising amount of free time . To fill it, she, Hermione and some of their other friends – including Luna, Neville, Ron and Ginny, the Rao twins and Emilia – decided to crack down on their previously somewhat abandoned idea for S.P.E.A.R. – The Society for the Promotion of Elven Autonomy and Rights, using their free time to plan campaign posters and specific courses of action to take in the new school year. Xenophilius was wholly supportive of their first foray into politics and volunteered his printing press for faster copying of posters and handouts, so that allowed the little group of quill-wielding crusaders more scope for campaign plans.

The end of term drew closer, and the time came for all Hogwarts students planning to return for the next school year to choose their new subjects. The exams concluded for all students by the end of May and results were released so that students could make informed choices for their subjects the next year, something that filled Rhiannon and Hermione especially with anxiety. While the exams weren’t terribly important in terms of their future, neither liked to fail at anything and in Rhiannon’s case, she’d never actually received any exam results in her time at Hogwarts – the first year she’d been sent to the Dursleys before she could receive them and the second the exams had been cancelled – so she couldn’t quite shake the anxiety that despite keeping up in most of her classes, perhaps she was performing at a substandard level because of her nonmagical background.

To her disappointment, Rhiannon got a barely passing grade in Transfiguration – the subject required a level of focus on mathematical minutiae that she just could not maintain. Her grade in Potions was even worse – in fact, that was the least gracious 35% she’d ever received. That score she took with a degree of smugness despite the failure – 35% was better than zero, and Professor Snape had set unsafe potions for every task and attempted to make the testing environment as uncomfortable as possible for a hypersensitive werewolf – or an autistic for that matter, Neville and Hermione too had both failed the class outright as a result. Her results in Creatures were similarly mixed but at least passing – while she was one of the best in the class at intuitively understanding what the creatures needed or were trying to communicate it took her a lot longer to bond with any of them. Herbology she’d not done too badly in – many of the plants were unsafe to her but with a mask and gloves she was usually safe, and Neville was an exhaustive supply of information when they studied together; Astronomy was never her best subject and she was unsurprised by the failing mark – she got distracted from the stars themselves by the cultural and historical significance of constellations and stargazing and that made her a troublemaker in Professor Sinistra’s stern opinion. Only in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Arts and Runes did she achieve excellent marks. While not the outstanding academic record she had hoped for, Rhiannon was surprised to find she wasn’t as upset with the mixed results as she had expected – she had still passed most of her classes despite a wide variety of obstacles, and she could always improve over the next two years before her O.W.Ls.

In light of her exam results, Rhiannon decided to discard Astronomy for the new school year, but kept the rest of her subjects the same – she refused to be bullied out of Potions given that she was actually quite good at the subject when studying under a teacher not actively trying to endanger her. And though Hermione achieved very good results almost entirely across the board, Rhiannon put her foot down and insisted she drop at least two more subjects to put her in range of a usual timetable. Reluctantly Hermione agreed to drop Care of Magical Creatures – a difficult decision that she apologised to Hagrid for; Muggle Studies, and Astronomy as well given that the subject was rapidly becoming inaccessible to her with her visual impairment.

With subjects chosen for the new year and the term rapidly coming to an end, Rhiannon’s focus shifted to the end of the Quidditch season. Unfortunately, Ron’s leg was very badly broken and required an extended healing period, which took them out of the remainder of the season quite thoroughly. Rhiannon found it uncomfortably odd playing without one of her best friends on the pitch, but with so little of the year left she was determined to adjust. This was Oliver Wood’s final year at Hogwarts, and she knew how much the Quidditch Cup meant to him – the whole team did, and they were determined to win it for him. Every Quidditch game was fiercer than the last, as Gryffindor stubbornly maintained their lead in the rankings and fought to maintain it – Rhiannon could hardly think of the possible changes to her future with so much to do.

The final Quidditch game was slated for the second-to-last week of the term, with Slytherin and Gryffindor to play for first and second place in the morning, and Hufflepuff and the Hellhounds to play for third and fourth that afternoon. Despite their best efforts, Slytherin had a significant lead over Gryffindor – Adrianne Pucey had been a fantastic Captain that year both in terms of results and sportsmanship – and as Oliver Wood repeated insistently to Rhiannon several times a day leading up to the game, they had to win the game by more than two hundred points to win the tournament as well. That meant that Rhiannon could not catch the Snitch unless they were one hundred and sixty points or more in the lead. So as the game approached, Rhiannon practiced her interception and distraction tactics in preparation, as well as stealing the Quaffle and passing it onto the Chasers who could actually score with it, and running interference against the opposing team’s Beaters, Chasers and Keeper.

The day of the final, June 6^th, dawned showery and overcast – Rhiannon’s favourite kind of weather, given her poor tolerance of heat and bright light. She stretched, yawned and unceremoniously shoved her misbehaving hip and a grating rib back into place, then set about getting ready for the day. A shower was necessary to shake off the worst of the full-moon fog and lack of sleep, so long as it was cool – a hot shower would have her asleep until midday if she wasn’t careful. After that, she meticulously dried her hair and protected it from the rain with the charm Lavender had given her, and padded back to the common room to finish getting ready.

All too soon it was almost nine in the morning, and Rhiannon was hurrying down to the Quidditch pitch dressed in her team robes, with her Firebolt and gear bag slung over her good shoulder and her cane in hand. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it, but Sirius had insisted on attending along with Remus, something about godfatherly pride. At least they weren’t the only non-faculty adults in the stands – family members from both teams had come to watch the final, and apparently there were scouts for professional league teams in attendance as well. That only cemented Rhiannon’s determination to win. The outcome of this match could decide Oliver’s career, as well as those of the rest of the team when it came time for them to leave school.

Unlike usual, the teams walked onto the pitch with their brooms in hand, and shook the hands of each opposing team member as they passed. By the casual behaviour of her teammates and the opposing team, Rhiannon guessed this was ordinary for a final match – she’d never actually played in one before, given this was her first school year that hadn’t ended in some life-or-death crisis. Once they’d all greeted eachother, Madam Hooch gave the go-ahead for them to mount their brooms and take off in their usual opposing circles of the pitch. Rhiannon grinned and waved to Adrianne, Alicia and Faye as they passed eachother, quietly pleased when they waved back – it had been hard to shake the anxiety that her friends would turn into rivals just because they were in different houses this year, and she was relieved that friendships and good sportsmanship seemed to carry across the house divide – at least most of the time.

Rhiannon waved to Sirius, Remus and her friends who’d seated themselves together in the stands, grinning madly as she breezed by. She was so busy greeting them that she almost flew straight into Oliver’s back and grimaced to herself, mortified at the distraction. She was foggy with the full moon, she couldn’t afford to try and multitask. Grimly, she intensified the audiminus

jinxes as Lee Jordan, Fred and George’s friend, began to bellow from the commentator’s box, and slid to a neat halt in the air a couple of metres behind and just above Oliver in the air formation, Fred and Bliss to either side of her. Oliver and Adrianne bowed slightly to eachother before Oliver and the Slytherin Keeper, a slightly pudgy, solidly-built boy Rhiannon remembered was named Marcus Belby, dropped out of the formation and hared off to their goals at either end of the pitch. Angelina slid sideways into the gap Oliver had left, and then it was just down to the whistle to begin the game.

Rhiannon, her hearing muffled by the jinx, missed the whistle and relied instead on her teammate’s reactions. As soon as she saw Angelina flinch she shot backwards and up, rocketing away from the crush of players all jostling for the possession of the Quaffle while the Bludgers zoomed skyward. Rhiannon kept an eye on Faye in her periphery, but once the crush broke apart with Slytherin Chaser Alicia Spinnet rocketing for the goalposts at the end of the pitch. Rhiannon nodded grimly to Harry and the two of them shot off after Alicia and pinched her between their brooms, steering her off-course and stifling her movement just long enough for Angelina to dart up under them and jostle the Quaffle from Alicia’s grip. Alicia swore and gestured rudely at her girlfriend as Angelina zoomed away towards the other end of the pitch, but she was laughing all the while and a wide grin split her face.

As the game wore on, Rhiannon became increasingly frustrated with the rules that prevented her from scoring. Only goals scored by Chasers counted – other positions could and did assist, but they could not gain points. She had easily the best broom on the pitch, and it was tedious with so little to do in her official position until they had enough of a lead to catch the Snitch safely. Faye had gone for it twice already, but Rhiannon body-blocked her friend with a grin and a cackle each time. Faye swore at her profusely but overall the air of good humour persisted even as the morning wore on. Slowly, slowly Gryffindor’s point lead grew until they had a solid hundred and forty points up – two more goals to make it. Many of the spectators were on their feet yelling in the stands and Rhiannon had relented the audiminus jinxes a little so that she could hear if another goal was scored, she itched with tension. They almost had it, the game was almost theirs -

DINGGGGG

Rhiannon whirled around to check the scoreboard and her heart soared – one hundred and fifty points. One more goal, and she could catch the Snitch. A brief flash of gold just above the stands behind the scoreboard taunted her, and she gritted her teeth and kicked the Firebolt into a steep dive, returning to the thick of the main game just long enough to body-check Riley Faust and throw their aim off course, sending the Bludger wide of D’Arcy instead of straight into his arm as he raced up the pitch with the Quaffle in hand. Thirty metres, twenty-five, fifteen... There was Adrianne rocketing towards him, significantly bigger than the slight second-year boy... No, she was knocked off course at the last second by Bliss, built like an airborne tank even at only five foot four. Fred had Marcus well in hand with a Bludger, Rhiannon could barely breathe the suspense was so intense-

The stands came alive with cheers, the scoreboard dinged and flashed and Rhiannon’s heart leapt as she realised they had the game, should she catch the Snitch. She dragged the Firebolt 'round in a circle, scanning the airspace for the Snitch or Faye – shit, there she was, fifty feet above Rhiannon’s head and racing towards a glint Rhiannon could see only if she squinted. The Firebolt was off before she even consciously thought of it, climbing rapidly towards the greyish-robed brunette high above them. Faye was mounted on a new Nimbus 2002, a solid challenge for the Firebolt but Rhiannon was determined to make up the distance and slowly she gained on Faye until the two of them were shoulder to shoulder, jostling and insulting eachother in a sort of playful rivalry as they closed the distance to the Snitch.

Rhiannon struggled to make her sluggish brain work, just like with Draco she couldn’t win this by pulling ahead of Faye – it wasn’t going to happen in the time they had. Faye was only an inch or two taller but she wasn’t suffering the effects of a full moon cycle, meaning her reflexes would outstrip Rhiannon’s if it came down to that. She couldn’t just jump ahead or onto Faye’s broom, they’d lose the Snitch and give Slytherin a chance to pull back ahead... She couldn’t think of what to do as the metres vanished. Forty metres, thirty, fifteen...

Suddenly decisive, Rhiannon pulled off to the side, creating a two or three metre gap between herself and Faye, then rapidly slammed herself and her broom back at the other Seeker just as they both reached the Snitch. Faye wobbled and dropped from the air as she tried to regain her balance, while Rhiannon whirled around with both hands outstretched, seeking the Snitch more by touch than sight.

Something wiry and delicate fluttered against her lips and cheek. Slowly, hardly daring to believe it, Rhiannon lifted a hand to her mouth... and there it was. The Golden Snitch, clamped firmly in her teeth, its’ wings crumpled. A laugh bubbled up and she hastily snatched it from her mouth before she let it spill out, tears of mirth spilling down over her cheeks as she giggled helplessly and raised the Snitch aloft, hardly flinching at the sensation of its’ battered wings beating unevenly against her fingers. The scoreboard read 790-580 Gryffindor to Slytherin, she passed a cursory glance over it as she descended slowly from the air, now growing numb with the disbelieving joy. They’d won. For the first time since well before Rhiannon had started at Hogwarts, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup.

The stadium came alive with noise, and Rhiannon drew her wand from her sleeve to inconspicuously strengthen the jinx on her ears before her feet touched the ground. As soon as she did she was mobbed by her teammates and ex-teammates alike, all wanting to hug her or shake her hand or ruffle her hair. She began to quail, overwhelmed by the crowd, until Oliver shoved them all aside and held out his arms for a hug, tears spilling from his eyes as he gestured for her to let his voice through her ear-wards. A voluntary hug, that Rhiannon could do, and she drew her wand to quickly modify the jinx slightly before she launched herself at her captain and squeezed him tightly around the waist. He had to bend down to speak in her ear, and as he did so Rhiannon understood why he’d wanted her to simply modify the jinx slightly – she could allow specific sounds through the filter if need be – rather than speak somewhere quieter. “Keeping a werewolf on the team – best decision I ever made. We couldn’t have won that without you, Potter.” he told her softly, the words lost to all others in the cacophony of the celebrating crowd.

As he released her, Rhiannon staggered away, smiling so widely she thought her face might split. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, steadying herself and fixing the memory of it all in her mind, because at that moment? She thought she could have cast a real Patronus.

Eventually, the grey misty showers that had interspersed the morning turned to real rain and the celebrating student body drifted off, presumably to take the party inside. Rhiannon hung back, preferring the rain to the crowd, and her peaceful smile widened as she saw Remus, Sirius and her friends, including Ron who hobbled along on crutches with a moon-boot brace encasing their whole lower right leg, and Dudley who had, along with Ginny, made a massive sign in support of the team.

Sirius leaned on a cane as he walked, evidently still struggling with fatigue, but his smile was so bright it chased the shadows from his face as he approached. “You looked brilliant up there, Rhiannon, even with the full moon,” he told her, and she heard a faint glimmer of pride in his voice. “God, the last memory I have of you before... you were zooming around on this little toy broom Remus and I got you for Christmas, absolutely terrorised your mum’s cat with it. So when I got out, and I knew you liked Quidditch, I, ah... I hoped the new broom would suit you, too – we got the paper in Azkaban sometimes, they... liked to keep us engaged in the world, stop us drifting off... more for the Dementors to feed on that way,” he trailed off with a shudder. Remus hugged him around his waist, but Sirius shook his head and smiled tiredly. “It’s how I knew Pettigrew was at Hogwarts, the photo of your friend with his family in Egypt, but... they did a story on you too, back when you got outed a couple years ago, and talked about you playing Quidditch so... yeah.” he finished with an uncomfortable shrug, rambling a little as he tried to explain himself.

Rhiannon grimaced as she remembered that first year. She’d been distantly aware there had been a Prophet article after she was outed, and another when she started going by her new name publicly, but hadn’t bothered to read them – Hermione and Ron had read them first and judged them to be terrible. But it warmed her heart that, even though her godfather had read those awful and presumably transphobic articles, he’d never referred to her as anything but a girl named Rhiannon, he’d not been influenced to be disappointed in her. Granted, given his relationship with Remus one might think that more likely, but Rhiannon had met enough gay girls and boys who’d been just as unpleasant about her trans status as the straight kids were so she’d certainly held a little anxiety about that.

Then something else clicked into place in her hazy brain, and Rhiannon tilted her head as she looked up at Sirius with a curious frown. “You b-b-b-b-b-o-ought the Firebolt?” she asked incredulously. Certainly it had been a concern for her friends and teachers that he might have, but Rhiannon hadn’t really believed it – the broom was terribly expensive, and he’d been on the run!

Sirius’ smile turned a little bashful. “Call it a decade worth of missed birthdays I wanted to make up for,” he replied. “And as for how... well, your friend Hermione’s cat. He’s a wonderfully clever creature, knew what I was at once. Once he decided to trust me he was quite helpful, stole me food several times, and your friend Neville’s list of passwords – I’m terribly sorry about that, I hope he didn’t get into too much trouble – and, at one point, the catalogues from the school mail room. I saw the bit about the Firebolt, thought you’d like it, and Crookshanks took the order into Hogsmeade for me. I filled it out under your name, but had them draw the money from my vault at Gringotts.”

Rhiannon shook her head, equal parts amused and horrified. “No wonder McGonagall was suspicious about it,” she said with a sigh. “She must have checked the records for who bought it, and got the name for who owned the vault. You could’ve been caught then!”

Sirius shrugged and grinned, while Remus glared at him and elbowed him playfully. “I wasn’t. And like I said – I missed your whole life. Felt I had a bit to make up for. Now, let’s go find ourselves some food, shall we? Especially you, Rhiannon – wash the taste of brass from your mouth.” he quipped. Laughing despite herself Rhiannon agreed, and along with her friends they all made their slow way back up to the castle.